


Spread Your Arms (Wrap them Around Me)

by bingsoo



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Boyfriends! Kaisoo, Established Relationship, KaiSoo - Freeform, M/M, Makeouts, light frottage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 08:47:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14951439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bingsoo/pseuds/bingsoo
Summary: When Jongin wears his "free hugs" shirt on a date, he receives slightly more than he's asked for.





	Spread Your Arms (Wrap them Around Me)

**Author's Note:**

> crossposted on aff!! 
> 
> Wassup guys I'm back and thirstier than ever. Wrote this a while ago and it's trash but I decided hey why not finally post it bc I'm trash as well? U are what u eat ha ha ha

_This isn’t so bad,_ is what Kyungsoo initially thinks.

Though Jongin still looks unsure, glancing at the shorter male for any signs of judgement or disapproval as he stands in front of his apartment, door held open with his hand, shuffling nervously in his clean pair of white sneakers.

 Jongin’s gaze shifts downward once more, towards his ripped blue jeans, but mostly at the dark shirt he’s wearing—one that says _‘_ **_FREE HUGS’_ ** in bold white letters, clumsily topped with a black windbreaker in an attempt to distract from the embarrassing statement stuck on his chest.

 But Kyungsoo doesn’t see what’s wrong. In fact, Kyungsoo thinks he looks nice. Nice enough to stare for a few seconds and have his breath stutter because, in reality, he hasn’t seen Jongin in a while. A long, long while.

 Both of them had been loaded with exams over the past few weeks. And, although they sometimes study together during late nights in the campus library… it’s mostly been quiet review, and ages since they’ve had a prolonged conversation, much less an actual date. For the past few weeks, their interactions were mainly limited to late night messaging, occasional hugs, and _maybe_ some rare lunch meet-ups because Jongin’s a Korean Literature major and frequents the Arts center, while Kyungsoo prefers to stay in the comfort of the Architectural department.

 This is just the start of many differences. Jongin likes books, words, spending his Saturday mornings with a warm cup of coffee and a new novel about romance, a slice of life and how to live it. On the other hand, Kyungsoo likes to detach himself from the real world, simmering in virtual entertainment, spending late nights on his computer with a cup of ramen in one hand and a pair of chopsticks in the other.

 Jongin likes people. Likes meeting them, knowing all the different types of individuals one gets to come across in life, their odd habits and routines, the reasons they smile—wondering. Kyungsoo prefers places, looking at how different environments shape over time, the beauty of the world around him, the ridges and curves of hills, buildings, fields—observing.

While Jongin is sun-kissed and lean, Kyungsoo is porcelain and sturdy. 

While Jongin is gentle and honest, Kyungsoo is reserved and humble.

And admittedly, while Jongin has a thing for shorter guys with doe eyes and heart-shaped lips, Kyungsoo would never reveal his weakness for taller ones with warm smiles and puppylike tendencies.

 And amongst these tendencies are ones that crave affection and reassurance. Although Jongin wears his heart on his sleeve and gives without expecting to receive, Kyungsoo knows that it must be exhausting to give and give all the damn time. He admires Jongin, his innocence and genuineness. After all, Jongin is expressive with his feelings in a messy way, almost like a child, with open displays of affection and lots and lots of cuddles.

 In contrast, Kyungsoo shows almost no emotion. At least not in a tangible sense; much like a teddy bear with its big eyes staring you down, completely serious and almost coldly stoic, though with a rare touch of warmth during spontaneous moments when he initiates the lingering gazes, the thoughtful words, and loving gestures.

 Though recently most of their talks have been small chit-chat and and updates and just generally haven’t lasted very long and frankly—

 Kyungsoo misses Jongin.

 But he definitely wasn’t eager. No, definitely not eager when he texted Jongin 30 minutes earlier than their discussed meeting time, already halfway past the main quad and legs striding as far as his skinny jeans would let him.

 

_Message received from:_

_My lil Soo ;3; 5:32 PM_

_I’m walking to your apt now. I’m by the quad_

 

_Message received from:_

_Jongin 5:33 PM_

_!!!!!_

 

_Message received from:_

_Jongin 5:33 PM_

_Wait hyung I’m not ready??_

 

_Message received from:_

_Jongin 5:33 PM_

_Hyung!!! Wait give me a sec please :(_

 

_Message received from:_

_Jongin 5:33 PM_

_Hyung????_

 

In which Kyungsoo brusquely ignores Jongin with a tiny checkmark affirming that yes, he has read his messages, and no, he was not going to stop walking. He continues stride after stride, making a beeline straight through the Linden trees that frame the Freshman Commons, turning at the junction by the Career Center, then finally to the Victorian arc that leads out of campus, paving the way straight towards the nearby apartments.

 

. . .

 

And so Jongin stands in front of Kyungsoo, fidgeting against the door as he runs a hand through his styled hair a bit breathlessly, giving sheepish grimace as he greets, “Hyung.” 

Kyungsoo blinks. “Hi.” 

Jongin still looks breathless, but coughs at the clipped remark. “I, uh,” another cough. “Was doing my laundry. And then you said you were on the way and I panicked and picked out some random black shirt and…”  
  
Kyungsoo blinks once again. **_“Uh,”_** Jongin bites out, albeit with a touch of regret, glancing down and picking at the seams of the obnoxious thing. It was supposedly a gag gift from Jongdae for Jongin’s most recent birthday, but the latter frequently wears it to bed, where the words **_“FREE HUGS”_** would at least be hidden from the public eye when it was in use. After all, although Jongin appreciates affection.... he gets embarrassed easily. Very, very easily. 

So easily that wearing this in front of Kyungsoo right now causes a smatter of pink in his cheeks, visible even past layers of gold and bronze.

So he curses Jongdae for giving him this shirt, then he curses the day he ever met Jongdae back during Freshman Orientation in that damn Quad, then he curses Jongdae himself, imagining the shorter man with the catlike features cackling in his high-pitched voice and throwing a tantrum as Jongin attempts to will the mental image away.

Then, Jongin suddenly remembers the countless memories he’s made with his friends at the Downtown Loop, all the places they’ve been and the laughs they’ve shared throughout the years. And he also remembers the day Jongdae tells him about this one _really_ cute junior in his acapella group—one with big brown eyes and a killer smile—and the day Jongdae invites said junior to hang with their group of friends, and how Jongin feels like he’s been repeatedly drop-kicked in the gut when he finally sees that killer smile in real life.

 What he did not expect, however, is for that same smile to keep killing him over and over again.

 “Looks good,” Kyungsoo says, lips quirking upwards as Jongin catches a glimpse of teeth, then a bite down on his lower lip. “Um. Yeah. You look really good today, Jongin.”

 And Jongin almost has the urge to backpaddle into his room, slam the door in Kyungsoo’s face, then giggle and squirm and howl like a maniac. But he suppresses himself, because he decides that this is not something a grown college student should do. It’s not like he’s some teenage schoolboy getting complimented by the person he likes.

 Reacting impulsively is distasteful and childish, is what Jongin concludes.

 “Jongin,” Kyungsoo finally says, voice muffled, accompanied with two knocks resounding from the tap of knuckles against wood. “Um… would you mind opening the door again, please?”

 

. . .

 

The hour of Jongin’s repeated apologies is a long one.

But they somehow manage to make it out of Jongin’s apartment building, stalk a few blocks down the sidewalk, and take the underground subway into the heart of the city, where the hub of life buzzes around them until Jongin’s apologies slip his mind completely and he’s simply dazed, admiring the view because Kyungsoo simply looks like a dream, gazing at the buildings up above with his big eyes.

They’re walking around a busy street, no destination in mind as they snack on ice cream cones, even though it’s just slightly chilly outside. A gust of wind hits them, and Jongin glances at Kyungsoo, wondering if the shorter male needs a jacket, or—if he’s lucky—a hug, or maybe cuddling of some sort.

However, Kyungsoo looks completely comfortable in his grey wool sweater, even rolling the left sleeve back a bit to avoid getting it sticky from the treat he’s holding.

“The weather’s perfect,” Kyungsoo comments.

 “Oh. Yeah—I mean, yes. It...is.” Jongin is disappointed.

 So instead he looks down at Kyungsoo’s right hand, the one closest to him. Jongin wonders if it would be okay to link it with his own. The kind of hold where both of their hands would be locked so firmly together they would keep warm through the weather. The kind of hold where Jongin’s sure Kyungsoo would be able to feel his pulse all the way down to the buzz on tips of his fingers. The loving kind of hold, as what couples do.

 It seems like Jongin takes too long deciding, because Kyungsoo unknowingly slips his hand in his back pocket, then rolls his shoulders a bit as another gust of wind hits.

 “Vanilla again?” Kyungsoo asks curiously.

 "Ah, yeah.” Jongin is still disappointed.

 Today is not treating him kindly. Because, although Jongin is usually expressive with his emotions… it comes and goes in bursts of confidence.

 And because Kyungsoo looks _especially_ good today, with his hair styled back and his black dress shoes and skinny jeans and his muscles defined underneath his grey sweater, Jongin feels much more intimidated. He isn’t sure if Kyungsoo is in the mood to be touched or held. Jongin may be expressive, but it doesn’t exactly guarantee his success in initiating his affections.

In fact, Jongin’s disappointment is so palpable that it seems to catch strangers’ attentions in the sidewalk—because suddenly, there’s a presence on his right side, and he almost drops his ice cream as he jumps in surprise.

There’s a young girl standing by him, probably around sixteen or so, staring up at him with wide eyes.  
  
“Hi,” the girl squeaks, shyly glancing between Jongin and the ground. “Free hugs, right?” Jongin remains frozen in confusion.   

“Uh,” he says dumbly.

Then the girl hops forward and half-wraps her arms around his torso. Jongin nearly loses his balance but regains it when the girl quickly pulls back and squeaks a “thank you.” 

Then the young girl sprints away, and Jongin still stands there, frozen in place, as if moving a muscle would confuse him even more. Then he remembers the statement on his shirt, panicking a bit and checking Kyungsoo to see if the shorter male is upset.

But Kyungsoo stands beside him, paused in surprise as well.

“That was…” Kyungsoo presses his lips into a pucker, blinks. Jongin glances down at the tempting pout, longing. “... interesting.”

Then Kyungsoo’s eyes crinkle as that killer smile appears, lips receding back like waves from the shore, making way for the the pearly white teeth to show and suddenly that heart-shaped grin is there, and a laugh bubbles out like a rare pearl in the midst of the sea.

Jongin feels lost.

 

. . .

 

“You know, Jongin, you should just stand outside and give people hugs all day,” Kyungsoo says, after a few more teenage girls, young kids, and occasionally older ladies had snuck up to Jongin to steal a hug. The latter feels odd and somewhat greasy, wrong on the inside, as if his shirt was allowing him to take advantage of people, or perhaps the other way around. Nonetheless, his ice cream is still intact, exposed to heat for too long and on the brink of dripping bouts of sugary liquid onto his hand. 

Kyungsoo, admittedly, is annoyed. Jongin is undoubtedly eye-catching in public; especially with his good looks and height, he can easily pass for a model rather than a full-time student. However, now that he’s wearing that damn shirt, people actually have an excuse to stop him, hug him, ask for pictures and whatnot.

And Kyungsoo doesn’t mind that. Really, he doesn’t. Although insecurities do come from time to time, he tries to brush them away. Jongin is loyal, he knows that. But when a particularly pretty girl walks by, he can’t help but realize how much better Jongin would look with her, or with any pretty girl in general. One with long hair and a nice smile and a lean frame like Jongin’s.

He hates how Jongin seems to forget all about him when a new group of people come around, asking for pictures because Jongin’s handsome, and how the bronze-skinned male just stands there as if he doesn’t know why people would _want_ to ask for that. Jongin fails to see the extent of his own looks, as well as its impact on others. So it’s natural why Kyungsoo wonders why the hell Jongin would want to be with him when there are so many better options out there; there must be a better match for the sun-kissed male.

Though what irritates Kyungsoo the most is the timing. He especially minds is the fact that all this is happening during their _date,_ which was supposedly the chance for them to catch up on a few weeks’ worth of conversations. He knows it’s not anyone’s fault, really, but he can’t help but get a little irritated at the lack of one-on-one attention. Kyungsoo has gotten somewhat spoiled by Jongin’s affections, he can’t help but feel a bit lacking without it.

This bothers him. 

“Hyung, don’t be angry,” Jongin whines, noticing Kyungsoo’s lack of conversation. Then he mutters under his breath, “you know there’s only one person who I’d _really_ want a hug from, anyways.”

Kyungsoo just stares up at him, not really wanting to talk anymore.

And perhaps this is the point wherein Jongin should lean in, whisper a, _“Can I hold you, hyung?”_ and go in for the kiss; taste the vanilla mocha swirl on Kyungsoo’s lips.

But once again, today is not Jongin’s day. Because before he can step forward, there’s a presence beside him once more, a group of teenagers, each asking for a hug because that’s what Jongin’s shirt offers.

And so he just stands there like usual, not really enjoying it but not wanting to be rude either, and Jongin moves his ice cream out of reach as to not get any stickiness on their clothes. 

“Hey,” one voice calls, and Jongin whips his head so fast that he was only a few inches or so away from a girl with a small, pretty face. Cute, but not Jongin’s type. He knows this well, especially during times when he thinks of heart-shaped lips when he’s in the shower, or when his hand travels lower, thinking of thick thighs and short hair that seem awfully familiar.

He flinches away, but the girl pays it no mind. 

“Hey,” she says again, though this time she nudges, “Your ice cream is melting. But thank you for your time!“

Then he feels a cold sensation on his fingers and yelps, following the path of the drip until he reaches the cone. As he does this, he fails to notices how the girl leans in his ear and says, “by the way, your friend is waiting.”

Jongin stops to give the girl a look, watching how she and her friends smile and bow in thanks once more before making their way through the crowd. Jongin feels another droplet of ice cream slide down his hand. 

Though as he licks at his fingers, he looks forward and realizes that Kyungsoo is a few steps ahead, staring at him this whole time. His heart skips bit as he freezes once more, pulling his sticky hand away from his face quickly, tongue curling drily in his mouth.  
  
Kyungsoo _glowers_ . Jongin’s stomach drops, and an odd sense of guilt suddenly builds in his chest. But a second later, Kyungsoo’s looks away, wearing only a neutral expression and his usual brooding stare.

“Let’s go,” he says, clipped and concise, before turning around and walking their path on the main road, and Jongin can’t help but feel as if he’s done something very wrong.

 

. . .

 

They’re in a bathroom, a clean one they found located in some random clothing department, and Jongin is washing his hands in silence. Kyungsoo steps away from the air dryer, patting his palms against his jeans once, twice.

Kyungsoo doesn’t know why the hell Jongin seems to be taking so long to simply wash the vanilla off his hands. This tiny detail somehow adds to his irritation. In fact, all the details add up. The drop of ice cream that he had to clean of from his shoe, the piece of frayed string on his sweater, the fact that a simple windbreaker somehow makes Jongin all the more attractive. It irritates him thinking that he’s waited to spend time with Jongin, while the latter is just taking his damn time, not caring that the date they planned hasn’t been much of a date at all.

And Kyungsoo wants this day to end. He’s seen too much already and can’t help but compare himself to anything and everything. The way others seem to touch Jongin with ease, while Kyungsoo is always much too embarrassed to do anything on his own. The annoyance, the irritation, the interruptions; and he suddenly wants to erase the way Jongin’s lips are pursed into a sad pout right now. Erase the previous hour of jealousy.

Erase the writing from Jongin’s shirt, because that’s where all his problems has stemmed from, anyway.

Kyungsoo’s fingers twitch against his palms. 

Meanwhile, Jongin is washing his hands, thinking that maybe the water could magically soothe his sadness. Kyungsoo was not in a good mood, which usually means that Jongin should keep his distance, unless he expects to receive are glares and deep frowns. This thought upsets him, because he was genuinely looking forward to the thought of cuddling the older male close tonight, or maybe watching a movie together because they haven’t done so in a while.

Jongin is nearly done drying his hands when he feels a tug on his jacket. He whisks around, gasping when Kyungsoo pulls on his shirt and starts tugging more.

“Take your shirt off,” Kyungsoo says. 

This takes a while to process. However, Jongin manages to choke out a garbled, **“...** **_What?”_ **  

“I said... _take your shirt off,”_ Kyungsoo says again, face neutral like usual but with an indiscernible edge of determination. His voice is deep and timbre, something that makes something inside Jongin rustle and squirm.

The taller boy squeaks.

Because although Kyungsoo is sometimes touchy—resting his hand on Jongin’s lower thigh when they’re sitting, settling a chin on Jongin’s shoulder when they’re standing because of the height difference—Jongin is aware that they were always unconscious efforts. Kyungsoo does what he does; but he’s never, _never_ acted like this.

He’s never took initiative in this sense. Moreover, Jongin has yet to step past the boundaries of cuddling and brief kisses, often too dumbstruck by Kyungsoo’s wide-eyed stares and innocent expressions to do anything more.

Though there are times he’d lock himself in his room, thinking about those thighs, what’s in between, and how Kyungsoo’s muscles would feel under his fingers in a different context. However in these moments, he’d always end up wheezing into his pillow with a red face and the guilty need of a cold shower. The showers, though, are a completely different story which Jongin would rather not think about right now, because there more urgent things to handle.

He stumbles backwards.

Kyungsoo’s hands are still roaming over his shirt, while Jongin’s scrambling away with a, “wait, hyung , _what_ — _”_ and an embarrassed, “Soo, _please_ , **_wait_ ** — **_”_ ** as they stagger into nearby stall, Kyungsoo clicking the lock in place. The sound echoes across the empty room, and Jongin cowers into the corner of the tight booth, elbows knocking at the sides, heartbeat ringing in his ears and blots of red smattered all over his cheeks.

When Kyungsoo turns, he still has that one expression on his face—the one he makes when he encourages Jongin to aim high and ace a test, or the the one he makes when he tells Jongin that he’ll surely pass the interview for the internship he wants. It’s an expression that causes Jongin’s breath stutter and his hands to curl into tight fists, suppressing the urge to grasp forward.

But Kyungsoo’s looking at him. Eyes deep and wonderful, plump lips pressed together in a thoughtful manner. He walks close, slower this time, but still places his hands on the lower edge of Jongin’s shirt in a final request. 

“Jongin, would you mind taking your shirt off... _please?”_

Jongin’s throat bobs. Up, down.

Something about this situation, about Kyungsoo’s forwardness and unknowing expression, register the fact that his intentions were completely innocent. Nonetheless, this whole scenario maybe _kind of_ turns Jongin on, just a little bit. Though Kyungsoo’s intentions were pure, he did ask Jongin to take his shirt off, and that was enough.

Enough for Jongin’s breath to flutter and him to decide, _fuck it,_ as his own hands clasp over the smaller ones grasping shirt, leaning forward to kiss Kyungsoo with all he’s got.

The pressure is fast and sudden, which makes Kyungsoo jump back a little bit, but his hands are trapped and Jongin’s lips feel nice and full, so he closes his eyes instead and leans in a bit more.

It’s sweet. The vanilla and mocha mix together, like a good cup of coffee on a Saturday morning, the kind Jongin likes so much, and Jongin feels lost once again. He tilts his head and they manage to press deeper, mouths opening and pulling away with wet smacks before connecting in the middle once again, quick and firm.

Jongin shuffles them both until his back is settled against the well, and his hands release their hold on Kyungsoo’s to grasp the latter’s jaw instead, feeling it tick under his fingertips when he presses harder.

When Kyungsoo pulls away, his eyes are half-lidded and dark, while Jongin looks the same and maybe also a little dumbstruck. He’s never kissed Kyungsoo like that before.

His throat bobs again. Up, down. But Kyungsoo looks dazed, and the shorter male’s hands slide up Jongin’s torso, grasping the lapels of his jacket and tugging. He tugs and tugs and angles his head forward and presses their lips together once again, looking for more and more.

Jongin’s heart stops beating, because Kyungsoo initiated a kiss for the first. Kyungsoo, who is reserved and quiet. Kyungsoo, who’s extremely selective about touching and hates PDA. Kyungsoo, who _kissed_ him, and _is kissing_ him, pressing hard and tasting sweeter than ever.

This time it’s slower. It’s hot as their mouths slide languidly, lips moving steady and good. Jongin’s hands have found their way elsewhere, one on Kyungsoo’s neck and the other on the back of his head, tugging at the soft hair. Kyungsoo’s knees are knocking against his, and they’re suddenly much closer than ever before, thighs nudged between thighs.

Kyungsoo’s hands slide down slowly, so slow that Jongin hiccups against his mouth, breath stuttering because Kyungsoo’s hands are suddenly sliding under his shirt, making Jongin’s stomach flex and convulse on instinct.

But then Jongin licks into Kyungsoo’s mouth with a sensual swipe of his tongue, and now Kyungsoo’s breath is the one leaving in stutters. Jongin licks once more, tongue briefly stroking the back of Kyungsoo’s teeth, and the latter’s knees briefly knock against the wall, hands pulling the lapels of Jongin’s windbreaker off his shoulders and onto the floor, revealing a nice set of bronzed arms.

They’re still kissing, and Kyungsoo runs his hands over lean biceps, experimentally licking into Jongin’s mouth as well, nudging against Jongin’s own tongue and sucking on the tip. Jongin’s breath hitches, and his hands travel to the edge of Kyungsoo’s sweater, pulling the material up to reveal a taut stomach and a firm chest. Kyungsoo’s muscles ripple against his fingertips. He continues to press against Jongin’s mouth, the latter nibbling on a plump lower lip, and they suddenly pull away when Kyungsoo’s sweater is pulled over his head, landing against the floor with a dull sound. 

Jongin’s mind is whirring.

His thighs clench as he looks over Kyungsoo’s defined body, burning the image into his head, as he’s always wondered what Kyungsoo was hiding underneath his clothes. His lips feel like electricity when he attaches them to the spot between Kyungsoo’s ear and jaw, hands drifting lower and pulling on the back of the shorter man’s hips to press him closer. When he sucks on the skin, Kyungsoo releases a low **_“ah”_ ** _,_ flinching in surprise.

At this, Jongin smiles; sucks harder a bit and nibbles, pressing his lips in a pattern down to the base of his throat, licking and leaving splotches of red against a porcelain canvas. Kyungsoo’s hands settle on his shoulders, unconsciously canting his hips forward as he continuously makes breathy noises into Jongin’s collarbone.

Jongin’s hands are on Kyungsoo’s firm ass, and his mouth is on Kyungsoo’s pale skin, and he can’t think of any better place to be. It’s all like a dream to him. A dream about how Kyungsoo wants him, how Kyungsoo’s grinding against his thigh, how Kyungsoo pulls away and is suddenly kissing up Jongin’s neck instead. 

Jongin’s head jerks against the wall when the plump lips settle on a spot above his collarbone, sucking on skin, leaving a mark before kissing it better. There’s a burning deep in his gut when Kyungsoo’s toned arms pulls his hips forward, pressing harder until Jongin’s crotch is finding friction against Kyungsoo’s strong thighs. He still can’t wrap his head around how those heart-shaped lips he’s dreamed of are now kissing down his throat, licking and sucking until a dark blush forms underneath the golden skin there. Jongin’s hand grasps his own shirt and pulls it hastily over his head, breathing roughly, impatient, wanting those lips to travel lower and lower and lower.

And they do. Kyungsoo’s kisses smatter themselves all over his torso, in a burning path downwards towards the edge of his jeans. Then Kyungsoo’s kneeling on the floor in front of him, grasping Jongin’s hips with his hands, and Jongin feels like he can pass out in any minute. His mind hazes around the fact that it’s Kyungsoo, here, in front of him, kneeling, licking a sensual swipe down his navel that leaves his hips bucking upward and a low moan to rise from his throat.

Jongin clenches his thighs and ignores the burn in his gut, watching with hooded eyes as Kyungsoo pulls back to look at him, fingers hooked on top of rough denim.

 ** _“Soo,”_ ** Jongin pants, eyes hazy and lips parted.

It comes out as a raspy drawl. Something filled with so much need that Jongin can barely restrain himself from sighing out his name once more, soft and encouraging.

Jongin fails to notice Kyungsoo’s dazed stare suddenly turns alert. His mind is reeling on the sight of Kyungsoo kneeling in front of him, concluding that this is a sight he’d want to have permanently ingrained in his memory—right below the one where Kyungsoo’s underneath him, shaking and panting with his pretty lips quivering, eyes blown and fingers clasping at sheets as he lets out breathy sounds because Jongin is thrusting deep and good, or maybe the other way around—

And Kyungsoo suddenly picks up Jongin’s black shirt from the floor.

Jongin blinks, vision still hazy and a little confused. _“Hyung…”_ he pants once more, still trying to regain his senses, _“what_ — _”_

Kyungsoo quickly puts the shirt on, raising himself from his knees and dusting away invisible dirt from the statement reading, _“_ **_FREE HUGS”_ **.

Jongin suddenly feels as if he’s done something wrong once again. “I—” he stutters in panic, “I’m sorry. Was I moving too fast?” His hand scrambles to the back of his neck, scratching there nervously, “I wasn’t… taking _advantage_ of you, was I?" 

 **_“No!”_ ** Kyungsoo chokes out suddenly. Jongin jumps in surprise. “You—you weren't. Trust me.”

When he stands to his full height, Jongin can clearly see the burning shade of red on Kyungsoo’s ears, a hint of it smattered on his cheeks as well. He stares down at the floor, refusing to looks Jongin in the eye because the latter is still dazed and shirtless. In fact, he almost misses the softness of Kyungsoo’s voice when he murmurs, “I wanted it.”

Jongin is dizzy.

“I’ll, _um,”_ Kyungsoo coughs, scratches his throat a bit, then briefly glances at Jongin for a second before looking away once more, cheeks deepening a darker shade of pink. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Then Kyungsoo scratches his nose, unlocks the stall, then bolts out of the bathroom as if he’s seen a ghost.

Jongin is still dizzy. 

The latter is so turned on it hurts. He wonders how in the hell someone so damn _cute_ could give him the biggest boner of the century. Nonetheless, reality hits and Jongin suddenly has the urge to grin and squeal and giggle like a schoolboy once more, because Kyungsoo _kissed_ him and he _made out_ with Kyungsoo and Kyungsoo was _shirtless_ and he was kissing _Kyungsoo_ all over and Kyungsoo was kissing _him_ all over and—

…

Kyungsoo’s been standing outside for several minutes now. 

He attempts to fix his mess of a hairdo, which was now sticking up in all places from to Jongin’s hands running through them. His heartbeat is a stuttering mess, so he refuses to think about what just happened. It’s simply a memory that will be blocked until he reaches the comfort of his dorm room later that night.

He’s lost track of time, and Jongin’s shirt smells really nice, so he simply stands there, breathing  and emptily blinking at random passers-by who throw him curious glances. 

He peeks at his watch and doesn’t expect a presence at his side—the appearance of a stranger followed soft squeak of "can I get a hug?"—and then there are small, feminine hands suddenly wrapping around his torso.

By the time the teenager runs away, Kyungsoo lets out a surprised scoff, glancing down at the damn shirt. He then turns and sees Jongin frozen a few steps behind him, handsomely standing in his black windbreaker. Kyungsoo sees the flash of grey underneath and suddenly feels a sense of relief. “You look good in my sweater,” he says.

When he all he gets for a response is a blank stare and an unmoving, scandalized expression his boyfriend’s face, he can’t help the twitch of his lips into a stifled grin. Payback, he supposes?

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo finally says with newfound brevity, red cheeks, and outstretched arms. A grin pops its way onto his face. _“_ Would you like a free hug?"

 

Needless to say, he does. And maybe later tonight, he would like a little more.

 

 

...


End file.
